


Kalpa

by sanchari (s_h_y)



Category: Mahabharata - Vyasa
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I guess????, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, except for slight inconsistencies, just kidding this is gen af, unless you squint hehe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-01
Updated: 2019-12-25
Packaged: 2020-07-28 19:04:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20069038
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/s_h_y/pseuds/sanchari
Summary: krishna and arjuna, from beginning to end.





	1. Swayamvara

**Author's Note:**

> alright so. i would like to put it out there that this is not my most coherent work. in fact it's been driving me crazy. it was spposed to be a single-chapter longer piece, but then it reached, like, 7k and counting and i thought chapters might be more user-friendly. idk. it's more casual, a little more irreverent (?? i think??), the accuracy is not the best, i'm sorry.

The first time Arjuna sees him, it’s at his own wedding.

Well, really, he doesn’t notice him until after his wedding has gone to hell and all the guests are trying to kill him. And Bhima, who’s currently holding them off with an actual pillar that he uprooted from his actual father-in-law’s actual palace, which is less than ideal for a number of reasons, actually (not that Bhima gives a damn, at the moment).

“Go!” yells Bhima over the uproar, while he breaks some poor soul’s ribs with his makeshift weapon and Arjuna winces, thinking about how much work went into this disguise – then again, technically he blew it first so he doesn’t really get the high ground this time –

“Arjuna, take her and get out of here!” snaps Bhima.

Her. Right. How had he forgotten her that fast? This marriage thing was going to take some work. He turns back to the dais, where his new bride is deep in conversation with some guy.

“…Bhima, right there,” the man is saying, pointing directly at Bhima (fuck), while Draupadi’s eyebrows climb higher and higher up her forehead. “Really! And that guy, your guy, that’s Arjuna, I’m telling you – “

He knows. He – Arjuna knew they were in some trouble but this guy actually _knows – _

Without thinking, Arjuna is reaching out, grabbing this man by the forearm and wheeling him around to face him.

“How do you know that?” he asks roughly, hands already itching for a weapon.

The stranger blinks for a second, and then smiles delightedly. He leans forward a little, looking as though he’s about to tell him the secret to immortality.

“I know everything.”

There’s a pause. Arjuna stares. The stranger beams back. He thinks the princess might have rolled her eyes, but –

“He guessed,” she says. “Lucky guess.”

The stranger sighs and shoots her a look over his shoulder. “Thanks, Krishnā.”

“Of course, Krishna.” 

“You _guessed,”_ repeats Arjuna. “You – “what kind of person would guess something like that? What kind of person would even _think_ of something like that? (a crazy person, that’s who.) Who even _is_ –

The princess screeches, and Arjuna flinches back to reality. The stranger blinks, and turns just in time to see a fucking beam flying right at his head –

And stop still.

Stop short, with a mace lodged right in the middle.

The stranger smiles cheerfully. “Thank you, Dau.”

The mace wielder merely grunts, dislodging the weapon – splinters flying everywhere – and charges back into the fray.

_Dau._ It’s an odd, out-of-place word – a pasture world, a _village_ word – an especially ludicrous thing to call – isn’t that Balarama? Arjuna is pretty sure that’s Balarama. That’s Bhima’s old mace teacher, which is fucked up - 

“You should probably go,” Krishna is saying to the princess. She doesn’t look to thrilled at the prospect. Arjuna can’t say he blames her, but the stranger smiles encouragingly and nudges her. “Go on, it’ll be fine. I’ll come visit you soon.”

Arjuna feels oddly left out. Is this guy the princess’s boyfriend or something? Does his wife have a boyfriend? Is that allowed? Why did they even hold this damn function if she’s set on somebody else? Now Arjuna’s the asshole.

Krishna clears his throat, thwacking Arjuna’s arm. “Get your brother and get out of here so I can handle this.”

Don’t need to tell him twice. Arjuna grabs the bow with one hand and the princess’ hand with the other and books it, yelling to Bhima over the crowd as they go.

The second time he sees him is the next morning, when Krishna and Balarama just…show up at their door. They’re all still arguing about this “share it amongst yourselves” mess, Yudhishtira and Bhima in particular. Arjuna doesn’t know what to think. Part of him wishes they’d never gone to that _swayamvara _in the first place. Or at least never taken part. Or at _least_ not listened to Bhima and his stupid plan for a stupid joke. Why do they never get things right?

“Ah – um, excuse me – “

All seven of them whip around on the spot, and Krishna starts. “Hello,” he says a little cautiously, raising his palms slightly. “I’m – I’m Vasudeva Krishna, this is my brother – Dau, come out here – this is my brother, Balarama. Hey, Krishne,” he adds suddenly, catching sight of Draupadi where she’s standing stiffly next to Bhima.

Nobody says anything, mostly out of shock, partly because Draupadi clearly enjoys embarrassing Krishna.

“…We’re Vasudeva’s sons,” he offers, now turning to their mother.

Kunti nods slowly, recognition setting in. “Yes,” she says slowly. “Oh, you look like him.”

“It’s the nose.”

“Of course it is,” says Kunti, and Arjuna can see she’s a little choked up already. “I used to make fun of that nose.”

Krishna’s smile falters a little at this. Balarama grins. “I make fun of his nose, too.”

Kunti does a little laughing sob. Oh, god. Arjuna doesn’t know where to look. “My goodness. I’ve heard so much about the two of you.”

They nod and murmur something unintelligible, which makes Arjuna wonder what exactly she’s heard about them. What has _he_ heard about them? He knows the names are familiar. This is all so weird. Arjuna wonder vaguely how many other relatives he has whom he’s never met.

Nobody’s said anything yet. The silence is getting a little awkward.

And then Bhima says, “How did you know where we were?”

Arjuna can hear him trying to be polite about it. Krishna grins, and Arjuna already knows what he’s going to say. “I know everything.”

“You followed us, didn’t you.”

“Krishne, please.”

“Mhmm. That’s what I thought.”

“I’m _here,”_ says Krishna pointedly, “because I heard that – I mean, about who you were. That you’re all still alive. Also, I’m almost certain that King Dhrupad knows too – _no, _I’m not the one who told him. I’m pretty sure your brother followed you here too, Krishna.”

“Which one?” asks Draupadi grudgingly, and Krishna snorts.

“Which one do you think? He meant well, I guess. Anyway, since you’ll al be summonsed back there anyway – for the wedding and all that – I didn’t think there was any harm in coming to meet you.”

“About the wedding,” says Kunti. “There’s an issue.”

Arjuna is watching Krishna closely here, to see if he’s really surprised. The timing was a little _too_ perfect, either this is some kind of freakish coincidence or this guy has been eavesdropping for longer than he’s letting on.

But Krishna gives away nothing. Instead he says only “Oh?”, raising his eyebrows, and Kunti and Yudhishtira have already started talking, and okay, so he’s sort of family and Arjuna’s mother is clearly already fond of him, but are they really just going to throw their business at him like this? They met him five minutes ago – well, except for Draupadi herself, who hasn’t even started talking yet (and doesn’t look very happy about it).

“Well,” says Krishna at last, in a tone that Arjuna is pretty sure means _Yikes. _ “It’s certainly a…conundrum.”

He’s damn right it is. Arjuna is at his wit’s end, personally. Who can they go to with something like this? What are they going to tell people – King Drupada? Their own family in Hastinapura? That is, of course, if and when they get home. Whole other problem. Arjuna is at his wit’s _end. _

But then Krishna smiles again, gently this time. “Don’t worry,” he says. “I know what you can do.”

This is the first snag he walks them through.

(Arjuna will remember this, they all will – they’ll forget the details, and argue over who said what, who spoke when – but the way he appeared out of nowhere, the way he spoke with such conviction you wanted to believe him, the way he promised them all nothing would go wrong and, somehow, nothing did. This they will remember. This will stay constant.)


	2. Indraprastha

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fun fact: according to wikipedia, the battle at the khandavaprastha forest is where krishna and arjuna's friendship was really cemented. 
> 
> (not gonna lie, i'm actually kinda proud of how this one turned out)

The third time he sees him is in Kampilya. The dust is still settling around their – their unconventional – around their insane five-way marriage, and now they’re already getting ready to kick up a new storm by accusing their cousins of attempted murder and then going back home to live with them. Arjuna really hates his life.

Krishna seems to be having a good time. Arjuna isn’t even completely sure what he’s doing here, only that everyone in Draupadi’s family seems to know him and his brother very well. _Old friend. Close to our daughter. Almost like another son. _And they’re cousins, of course. Because that’s all he needs right now, more cousins.

He’s heard a lot more about Krishna since the last time they met. The night he and his brother showed up, Kunti and Yudhishtira exchanged story after impossible story: that he killed his own tyrant uncle at the age of eleven, that he had lifted an entire mountain on his little finger at younger. That he had finished his schooling in a matter of months and had been killing demons since he was an _infant_ (demons that had been set on him by the aforementioned tyrant uncle).

(He’s also heard, and remembered, less flattering stories from people – that his primary tactic on the battlefield was to _run away_ – something he has done several times. To Kalayavana, who his then got killed by someone else, to Jarasandha. He’s heard that he’s an illusionist, and a liar, and troublemaker. That he kidnapped a princess from her own _swayamvara_ and married her himself even though she was already betrothed to someone else.)

He looks, well, ordinary. He doesn’t look like he’d be as strong as Bhima even. Appearances, and all that. But Arjuna’s mother talks about him like…well, like she reveres him, never mind that he’s Arjuna’s age. He’s not sure how he’s supposed to treat this guy.

_With respect,_ says his mother’s voice in his head.

So, for now at least, Arjuna hold his judgement at bay. Keeps his questions to himself.

But then, once their plans are finally settled, all the messengers sent and hard feelings concealed, once Draupadi’s procession has been planned and arranged for, once they’re _finally_ going back home – Krishna and his brother suggest they come along as well. To see Draupadi off. To spend some more time with their newfound aunt and cousins.

Arjuna doesn’t really care. At this point Narakasura himself could invite himself to Hastinapura and Arjuna would save him a seat. He just wants to be _back. _ They’re finally going back home, and for now, everything is good. He’s happy.

Until, of course, they actually get there, and learn about the proposed partition.

“I don’t believe it,” says Bhima slowly. Arjuna can _see _the rage rising up in him. “Those – those – are they _serious?_ Are they _actually_ serious? Khandavaprastha?”

Nobody else says anything. Silently they all turn back to Yudhishtira, who takes a deep breath. “Bhima – “

“And you just said _yes?”_

“What choice did I have?”

Arjuna winces. Bhima stops pacing and turns to face him, incredulous. “What – what choice? What other choice? Brother – “

“Alright, wait.”

Surprisingly, there is silence. Arjuna looks to his left. Krishna has gotten up too, and goes to stand between the two like he’s afraid they’ll start fighting. “Listen,” he says calmly, “Granted, you’ve all been dealt unfairly with. Granted, His Majesty has more or less, well, cheated you out of your rightful kingdom – “

Arjuna winces again. Yudhishtira isn’t going to like that. Sure enough, he frowns, opening his mouth, but Krishna doesn’t stop talking. _“But_,” he goes on hurriedly, “there’s nothing to be disheartened about.”

“How so?” asks Nakula, pained. “What are we supposed to do with a place like Khandavaprastha? It’s barren, it’s wasted, most of it is forest – “

“Yes, _now._ So what? We’ll make it into something else.”

Arjuna raises his eyebrows. “Easy to say,” he says. “But that sort of thing would take us _years,_ Vasudeva. Just to make it – I don’t know, habitable. Just to make it a place we can _live_ in, never mind anything that can compare to Hastinapura.”

Krishna just smiles. “Years? Maybe if you were on your own. But you’re forgetting Dau.” He grins at Balarama almost conspiratorially. “And me, of course. Don’t worry about years, Arjuna. I can promise you, we’ll have it all done in months.”

Months. Arjuna tries to keep the doubt off his face. Months? What’s his plan?

Krishna’s smile has widened, as though he’s guessed what he’s thinking. “I’ll need your help, though, Arjuna,” he says. “Will you come with me there tomorrow? There’s something we have to do first.”

****

And so the fourth time he sees him – if you can count this as a separate time – is in Khandavaprastha.

Arjuna squints at him in the morning sun. “You want me to what?”

“You heard me. Burn it down.”

In spite of himself, Arjuna hesitates. “What, the whole thing?”

Krishna nods. “I’ll help. We need to clear the land, Arjuna. That and Agni wants a favour.”

Arjuna isn’t sure whether that last bit was a joke or not, and doesn’t dare ask. They do need the land, after all.

“You have an _astra_ for that, don’t you?”

Of course he has an _astra_ for that. He’s Arjuna, student of Drona, and the only reason he doesn’t have an _astra_ for building the whole city in one go is because they haven’t made one yet. He doesn’t even bother to answer Krishna’s question, just reaches into his quiver and draws it. _Agneyastra_. Long, slender, gleaming.

(Years from now, Arjuna will regret this moment. The violence of it, the destruction it caused. the enemies it made him. but today, in his pride, in his thoughtlessness, he does it. Draws, aims, fires.)

The forest on fire is a…sight to behold. The the flames lick their way up the tallest of trees in seconds, towering over them, the small of dry, burning wood. Hordes and hordes of animals come pouring out from between burning trees. The air seems to be quivering. Arjuna’s skin is blistering. His vision fills with the dark grey and deep orange, his ears fill with crackling of wood and –

Is that _thunder?_

The sky claps again; this time the sound is unmistakable. The weather had been so clear that morning, too.

Krishna lifts his head to the sky, and a cold smirk curls around his mouth. “Really?” he says. “I’d like to see you try it.”

Arjuna tries not to stare and fails. “Are you – are you talking to God?”

Krishna snorts, but he doesn’t answer. Arjuna opens his mouth again, but even as the words start from his mouth -

The clouds _explode_ above them, rain pouring down from the sky like a river in spate. “Oh, no,” Arjuna murmurs. Just his luck. It’s going to put out the fire, the whole place is going to turn into wet, damp, muddy, ashy mess. God.

“Cheer up,” says Krishna. “No, look. Arjuna, _look._”

Arjuna looks. He looks, and he sees the vapor rising above the tops of the flames. The rain is not putting out the fire. The rain can’t even touch it without turning to air.

“They’re not going to like that.”

“What?” Arjuna reaches for the bow on reflex. “Who?”

Krishna nods at the sky, arms crossed, body tense. “Look. Them.”

Something strange is happening above the flaming treetops.

The clouds don’t stop gathering, thick and dark, but only over the forest. A sudden, blinding bolt of lightning forks across the clear sky above them. Once. Twice.

This is unnatural. Arjuna draws an arrow, fits it to the bow even though he has nothing to shoot at.

“Indra,” says Krishna’s voice from behind him. Low and calm. “And his friends.”

“We’re going to fight _Indra?”_

“We’re going to _beat_ Indra.”

No sooner have the words reached Arjuna’s ears than another lightning bolt shoots down, _down,_ straight for Arjuna’s skull –

His body is faster than his mind, legs stepping aside, arms lifting, pulling, shooting. He releases one _astra_ just as something else lights up the sky again, a different weapon –

Arjuna’s hands are firing again, again, again. Each weapon seems to come closer to him than the last, one blazing _agneyastra_ actually grazing his skin. There is no time to think. No time to plan. There is nothing now but him and his bow and the _rain_ of weaponry that it falling out of the sky like hailstones.

And then a soft glow begins behind Arjuna, so soft he doesn’t notice it at first. But it grows brighter and bright, until the light is hitting even his eyes, and he turns around to look.

He sucks in his breath, lowering his arm from his eyes.

Krishna stands behind him, holding the sun aloft in his hands.

He ditched the crown at some, Arjuna realizes belatedly, and his dark face above the light from the disc make him look like someone else entirely. He’s not a prince. He’s not royalty of any kind. He’s something much…simpler. Much purer than that. He looks – untouched, somehow, by the world he lives in. He looks untouchable.

“This,” says Krishna quietly, in response to his unasked wonder, “is the Sudarshana Chakra.” And he – he does something with his wrist, a movement so small and quick Arjuna almost misses it. The disc slices through the air, the way a fin cuts through water, moving so quickly, so smoothly, that by the time you saw it was already somewhere else.

Arjuna fights a lot, over the course of his lifetime. It’s what kshatriyas do. But this battle – the way this felt. He’s never known anything like it. He can’t forget the burn in his limbs, the way his hands moved faster than thought. He can’t forget the way the sky broke open above him, the way the trees blazed around him, the way the earth shook beneath him with the sheer _force_ of this battle. He cannot forget the sight of Krishna, dark hair whipping against his face, head thrown back to the sky, laughing at the gods.

****

Hours later, or maybe minutes, or maybe days, Arjuna finally shoots his last arrow. The disc flies back to Krishna’s hand one last time, like a bird to its nest. Panting, they look at each other for a second, two seconds, and just Krishna is starting once to laugh

Arjuna sighs, leaning slightly against the pillar, and Krishna loops an arm around his shoulders. “You’re not bad with that bow.”

“Thanks. You’re not bad with the…whatever it was.”

“I’ll have you know I got that _whatever it was_ from Parashurama himself. He told me it’s divine. That Vishnu himself used it.”

“You did not.”

“I absolutely did. As a gift.”

“How is that possible?”

Krishna lifts his chin smugly, gathering the reins in his hands. “I’m made out of magic. I’m divine. No, I’m – I’m divinity _itself_.”

Arjuna snorts. “Is that it?”

“I think that about covers it.”

“You know, a real warrior doesn’t have to brag.”

Krishna smirks at him over his shoulder. “It’s not bragging if it’s true.”

****

The following days go by in a frenzy. They break the soil for the palace themselves – Balarama proving to be a lion on the field as well as the battlefield, as it turns out – they’re hauling rocks and sand to build with. Maya is puzzling over his drawings and little models, speaking to nobody except sometimes Krishna. They’re up from lamplight to lamplight. Every morning they wake each other up to work, and every night they build themselves a big fire and sit around it together until sleep takes them. (Once or twice Krishna coaxes them into singing a bad work song from his childhood. They laugh at him, but it helps. It’s – fun.)

Why does he do it? Arjuna can’t think of a real answer, except that he’s so fond of Draupadi that he’s willing to do more for her then her father or brother have. Or maybe he’s just taken a liking to the five of them and is helping them simply out of good-natured kindness. Or maybe he just feels sorry for them (Arjuna certainly does). Or maybe this is just what he does in his spare time. Maybe he has too much spare time. Arjuna has decided not to question it.

Months later, when the Palace of Illusions stands tall and proud and their new city (_Indraprastha,_ they decided, in an effort to appease the god they fought to build it) is coming up slowly but surely around them, Krishna and his brother finally leave. In the early hours of the morning – the last time for a while that they’ll be up this early again – they load their chariot and hitch their horses, inviting them back to Dwaraka all the while. Balarama blesses everyone and, smiling, admonishes them for being lazy enough that he did the lion's share of the work. Krishna hugs Draupadi, and says something so low Arjuna can’t even hear it.

And then he also hugs Arjuna.

“Come home,” he tells him simply.

And, soon, Arjuna does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> about the Arjuna's line about a "real warrior" : 'warrior' is not the correct term to use here. What I wanted to say was something like 'accomplished/noble warrior' or 'brave/skilled fighter', something like that - i suppose in Sanskrit it might be something like 'veera'. I will edit that if i do think of a better way to phrase it, thank you for bearing with me


	3. Vivāsa

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arjuna gets kicked to the curb.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have to admit that i'm not particularly happy with the way this one turned out. It departs a little from the theme I'm trying to follow here, there's a large time skip that I handled a little clumsily. Skipping ahead completely to after all this and straight to years later also didn't feel right. Any feedback on how to improve this chapter would be greatly appreciated!

“Hey, Partha.”

“Hm?”

“Look at that bird.”

Arjuna glances up. “What bird?”

Krishna is pointing up into the leaves, where Arjuna catches sight of a few bright feathers. “What is that?” Krishna is saying. “Looks like an owl, no? Weird.”

_Oh no you don’t. _Arjuna shrugs and looks back out at the river. “Yeah, must be an owl.”

“You think so? Think it might be a sparrow, actually. It’s smaller than I thought.”

“That’s a sparrow, all right.”

This time there’s a pause. And then Krishna says, “You know, the more I look at it, the more it seems like a dove. You know those wild doves?”

“Oh, of course it is.”

“Never mind. Wrong again. It’s not a dove, Arjuna, it’s a white crow.”

“Makes sense. I was thinking the same thing.”

Krishna smacks the back of his head. “You’re going to just accept that too?”

Arjuna turns around and looks him in the eye. “Keshav,” he says, “how much effort is it going to take you to change that thing into whatever bird you want? Even a white crow?”

Krishna blinks. A slow smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “Alright, fine,” he says. “You win this time.”

“I’m sorry, what was that?”

“Oh, shut up.”

“I _win?_ Against divinity itself?”

Krishna is laughing too. He shoves him. “Just walk. We should head back soon.”

“This might be the greatest day of my life.”

“Move your legs, idiot.”

Arjuna does.

The fifth time he’s seeing him is in Dwaraka itself. He has no reason to be here, beyond “Krishna invited me,” and _“Krishna_ invited me.” He’s been here too long, probably. It’s been two weeks. Nobody has said anything about it yet – even the one message Yudhishtira has sent him has said nothing about it, about his responsibilities back home, his work – but still. He shouldn’t wait until they’re forced to tell him.

It’s just that it’s so _nice,_ being here. It’s so easy. It’s so simple.

“That’s because you’re not working here, you shameless freeloader,” snorts Krishna, the one time Arjuna mentioned it to him. “If you were making yourself useful, you’d know it isn’t _simple.”_

Maybe. He probably does have a point. Arjuna doesn’t really care, in all honesty. He stays another week, and then, when worrying that he’s been away too long starts eclipsing everything good about being away, he finally goes. It doesn’t feel like such a big deal. Krishna hugs him a few seconds longer than usual, but he says nothing much, except to tell him to _write back this time, jackass. _(Arjuna will).

He’s missed Indraprastha just enough that It would be hard not to miss Krishna, except it is harder to miss him. Simply because there are so many reasons to see him; every few months he’ll get a break from working at home and he’ll make the trip, or there’ll be a _yagna_ or a wedding or birth somewhere they’ll both be invited to; there are days when Krishna shows up on his own, just to visit. He has no reason not to. That is reason enough.

Arjuna has lost count of how many times he has seen him.

***

“So, you’re telling me you didn’t even have an invitation – you just – showed up?”

“I did have an invitation,” protests Krishna. “Just not from the _king._ But I had one from the bride.”

Arjuna raises his eyebrows at that one. “Oh. O_ho._ You had a – “

“What they call a love letter, I believe.”

“You’re kidding. You hadn’t even met – you didn’t know her!”

“Aha,” says Krishna smugly, “but _she_ knew me.”

“Come on. So she just writes you a letter, saying, _hey, if you don’t have plans next week – ”_

“It _said,_ Oh Krishna, you gem among men – “

Arjuna rolls his eyes. “Of course it did.”

“ – with the face of Kama and a smile like the crescent moon –”

“Wake me up when you’re finished, please.”

“Don’t be jealous. _Anyway, _anyway – okay! – she asked me to go over and there and get her, so I did. And that was that. I mean, we had to fight off most of the other suitors, and some of her family still don’t talk to us. But yeah, that was that.”

“So, basically, you gatecrashed your own wedding and kidnapped your own bride.”

“That is not true. It wasn’t even a _wedding – _and I didn’t _kidnap_ anyone, thanks –“

Arjuna is chortling, watching Krishna as tries and fail not to laugh. Thank god for this. He’s been working himself to death these last few weeks, they all have, what with the Rajasuya – the arrangements and invitations, but most importantly the declarations. Travelling kingdom to kingdom and fighting anyone who stood in the way of this, of their Empire, the one thing Arjuna has ever seen his oldest brother really _want._ It has been exhausting, even for him. Even for Bhima, who loves battle more than any of them.

But it’s done now. The sacred horse is officially retired. Their chariots are all back in the palace complex, and Arjuna personally intends to let his gather a little dust before he takes it out again. Guests have already started leaving. Even the mess of the yagna, Shishupala and all, is already starting to feel a little distant. Krishna walked into his room a good half hour and hasn’t so much as alluded to it, as if he’s already forgotten, and that should frustrate him but it doesn’t, today. For once, Arjuna would rather forget, too.

Things are good. They’re so good it scares him a little, they’re so good that Arjuna sometimes wakes wishing for disaster to strike already just so they could all get it over with.

None of the others really understand that. Draupadi doesn’t (Arjuna isn’t fully convinced Draupadi understands the concept of fear in general, actually). His brothers don’t. Even Krishna just shakes his head when he voices it. “You’ve been running too long,” he’d said. Shoving his shoulder gently. “You just need to remember how to be calm again, Partha. Nothing is going to happen.”

***

And then it does. Or rather, _he _does. He does it to himself.

It happens a few months after the Rajasuya. It’s stupid. The whole thing is stupid. He never thinks, this is exactly what Krishna is always pointing out to him, he just _does._ Blindly. This time too. A grieving peasant comes to him, tears in his eyes, and Arjuna promises him his children back from the dead or Arjuna’s own life, blindly. Goes searching, in a rage, for the Gandhiva, blindly. Goes bursting into the armoury, blindly –

And so, blindly, sees what he should not have. Ever. 

And now he to leave. He has to leave all of this behind. Just when they were all moving past the mess of the Rajasuya. Just when things were finally looking up.

“It’s not that bad,” says Yudhisthira at last, gently. “You’ll get the chance to travel. See the world a little more, without having anything else to worry about. While you’re still young.”

“And you’re always _talking_ about going, anyway,” adds Draupadi, a familiar, teasing glint in her eye. Krishna shoots her an amused look, and Arjuna knows, with an odd sense of comfort, that the two of them talk about him. “the South, the West, the Northeast, I’ve gotten sick of hearing it. Or are you all talk after all?”

Arjuna sighs and runs his hands through his hair.

“You know you can always come stay with us,” says Krishna, at last. Arjuna raises his eyebrows. “You mean to say you still have room? After your, what was it, twenty thousand new brides –

“_Sixteen_ thousand. And there’s always space in my room, Arjuna – “

Draupadi smacks his shoulder. “Krishna, if you’re going to flirt with my husband, at least have the decency to do it somewhere else.”

Krishna looks wounded. “You have _five,_ come on – “

“You have sixteen _thousand_ wives!”

“Well, yes,” says Krishna, mocking and earnest at once, “but they’re all _wives –“_

“The _point_ is,” interrupts Arjuna, raising his voice, “The point is, that wouldn’t be an exile, would it? It’d be breaking my word.”

Krishna and Draupadi fall silent, sober once again, but Arjuna finds himself still smiling a little, and also a little overcome by the urge to hug them both. He doesn’t deserve all this.

It’s one of the things he misses the most during the exile. The loneliness of it. Not living around the other four, around Draupadi – not seeing Krishna at all, not even once every few months, and not hearing from him, either.

Twelve years is a long time. He has to steady himself, sometimes, at the sheer enormity of it – twelve years. _Twelve_ _years. _It’s too much. It’s too long to go without seeing them all, without _being _there. In twelve years, when he gets back home, there might be new children there who’ve only ever heard of him. In twelve years, there might be people missing. This is the worst thought – he learns, this way, that he’d rather miss a beginning than an end.

He writes that down, sometimes, in the letters that he’s not sure when he’ll get to send. _I’m well. I’ve seen so much. I’m scared that when I finally come back, we won’t be able to recognize each other. _

Krishna is not here to laugh at him for thinking it, so Arjuna tries his best to imagine it. _Don’t be stupid, Partha. After everything you still owe me? Debtors and creditors don’t forget each other’s faces. _

Once or twice, when he gets lucky, he might come across someone who’s going the way of Indraprastha, or Dwaraka. He sends messages back, then. He never hears back – obviously.

(Although, sometimes, he’s less sure. Sometimes he’ll stop to eat at a market and the trader chatting to him will have the most familiar smile, and infuriatingly knowing look in his eye. Sometimes when he’s ill, or injured, and can’t find a safe place to stay, a woodcutter or potter or farmer will show at the last minute, just as he’s resigning himself to walking all night, and offer him a place to sleep. He can brush it off, during the day. But late at night when he’s trudging on his own under the moon, or in the early hours of the morning, he has to wonder. Which is really more unlikely, after all: that Krishna would simply leave him to it, or that he wouldn’t? If anyone would – or could, for that matter – try and to keep a tab or two on him, it would be Keshav. Arjuna doesn’t know anyone worse at minding their own business. 

At least they’re all famous, he consoles himself. If anything wonderful happened for any of them, if anything terrible happened to any of them, he would probably hear about it sooner or later. In the beginning, the first year or so, he couldn’t bear to go too far for precisely this reason, keeping himself a few states away. His ties – worry, mostly, and sentiment – loosen with time and a little tugging, fraying more and more every few months. They are well. They are well. There are battles that he cannot fight in, which stings, and there are celebrations he cannot attend, but the important thing is that they are well.

One day Arjuna crosses the Vindhyas, and he does not look back. 

***

How many ways can you measure spent time? Says and weeks and months. Seasons. He asks a farmer how long it has been since Arjuna left and watches the man count crop cycles that have passed. Harvest seasons, monthly markets.

In places he’s seen. The mountains of the north, the hills and coasts and forests of the south. Temples. Forts, palaces. The number goes higher and higher. He has been away for three journeys. Four pilgrimages.

_In the number of fuck-ups you’ve had,_ Krishna would have said. Arjuna would sooner die than admit it to him, but it was worth it, to have seen him however briefly, to have heard him even if all he said was that Arjuna was a reckless fool. Rameswaram was embarrassing, yes, but he cannot really regret it. Even if he knows Krishna wishes he would.

In – in loves, and in lovers. In ones who got away. The woman in a village whose location he forgets later, but who gave him water and food and shelter and company, who made him laugh harder than he had in weeks. Who kissed him once, briefly, and he kissed her back, briefly, and it was pleasant enough but he could not go on. Somehow it didn’t quite sit right with him, why he couldn’t really say – that it was too soon, maybe. Or just that it was wrong. That it felt like a transgression towards Draupadi, that this woman did not know who he was, that he could not stay here past sunrise the next morning. But he doesn’t forget her. He wonders, sometimes, whether she forgets him.

Ulupi – the kingdom on the beds of the rivers, water swirling through him easy as air. Ulupi, her long wavy hair, her quiet, calm wisdom, her eyes that were somehow older than the rest of her, her skin so smooth that with her eye closed Arjuna could have sworn these were scales under his hands.

And Chitrangadha. Chitrangadha with her tall, lean, lithe form, the lone long dark braid that always hung down her back. He’d never met anyone before with hair as straight as Chitrangadha’s. Her sharp, angular face, her level gaze, her quick wit. Krishna would have liked Chitrangadha, Arjuna knows. Her archery skills were nearly as good as his, and her sword-fighting was better. Chitrangadha who took him as he was the day she saw him, without question, and who let him go the day he told her he had to, without question.

He stayed Manipura longer than he stayed anywhere else. By the time he finally leaves, it is nearly time to go back home.

***

Twelve years is a long time, but the largest dam will drain one day provided there’s a leak in it. Arjuna leaves Manipura and realizes that his time is at last running out. He starts walking again, for the first time in nearly a year, and at last, at last, he is walking homeward.

Well. Until he crosses back to the plains and realizes that what he’s really craving is the ocean. He wants to stand on the rocks and feel sand between his toes and watch the waves crash against the cove and stretch on till the horizon.

“Pardon me,” he says, at the next market he finds. “But which way towards Dwaraka?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i'm actually considering doing a different story entirely about Arjuna's exile, just in greater detail - let me know if that's something anyone would be interested in reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Krishna calls Balarama 'dau' because I'm not creative, and because I feel like they would use more casual honorifics than the standard formal ones used by the Kurus and everyone else. And because i watched BR Chopra as a kid, okay, i'm sorry. 
> 
> feedback is HIGHLY appreciated because i seem to be in over my head with this


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